Revenge as Sweet as his Dying Breath
by CarrotKun
Summary: TW: Rape and pedophilia. Ten years Alfreds waited for the return of his childhood monster. He'd plotted and planned for this day and for all to be perfect however it could not be so because Arthur did not remember. The glow of recognition and regret-for that Alfred was desperate. He could not kill him before he remembered. "I want to join your crew." Piratalia.
1. Chapter 1

Trigger Warning: Rape and Pedophilia

* * *

First there were screams; yelling, and sobs as drunken hands trailed down the soft exposed flesh of his torso and near to the latches of his final defense against the man- the monster above him whose tongue- far too large for his mouth- prodded and searched his sticky, wet cavern against his lips painted red for that mans liking.

He cried- yet there was no one to stop short clipped finger nails from extending their reaches to his lowered trousers and lengthening his greedy grasp around his small scrotum. The man moaned, and panted-finding Alfred's desperate mewls and wanton movements to his liking and let the low chuckles like thunder boom from his throat with hanging salvia that threatened to drip upon Alfred's face to match the running white substance which clung to his chin and lips and sat, even then still, heavily in his stomach after having been demanded to suck on his knees the engorged erection of the man who towered over his small, trembling, form and spoke.

"No need to panic. I'll take care of you." His voice like melted honey dripped sweetly across the child's ears too sweet for Alfred's own taste and forced his near empty stomach to twist in a reminder that this man was not as sweet as Alfred had thought but cruel, bitter, and salty as the sea. An embodiment of the ocean, that is what he claimed and that is what he was.

"Please..." Alfred's breath hitched in back of his throat still raw from its abuse and back arched after a surge of pain which pierced his backside entrance. "Please stop!"

He cried for this to end and for his actions to stop-but he did not. The monster hadn't stopped; his large fingers coated white and warm pushed inside him and despite his screams and calls for mercy the rough pumps continued harder and deeper still till Alfred could feel his head slam against the headboard with the forceful push of his body again and again. The second finger was added, stretching him far beyond his own limits or so he thought because when the fingers slid away, leaving room for Alfred to breath for a single moment, the dripping cock of the man above him took their place all too soon and pounded into him rougher still.

His accented voice moaned louder than the cries of Alfred's red throat as he fucked him well into the darkness of the night-filling his stretched pink hole white with his essence with several moans louder than the others and though he walked away from him-Alfred was unable to sleep; his ten year old mind unable to register the events which had unfolded and continued to lay still and stare into the pale moonlit dock which grew bright with reds and oranges and glittered above the monstrous boats and single risen sail with a flag as black as the night.

For a moment he stared; memorizing the devils grin and unholy cross which imprinted itself upon it. Careful enough to draw it over in its mind days, months, and years after with the exact precision of the gun he taught himself to use as he waited with a building wrath.

Ten years; he set never to forget that sail, that night, or the name of the monster who took him, the name he knew well but never dared to speak out loud till the day he would wake again and find that flag waving in the port outside his window and he could sit unshaken by the arrival of the pirates.

Ten years he waited for his vengeance and finally his era had come, and it was time to kill Arthur Kirkland.


	2. Chapter 2

Trigger Warning: Rape and Pedophilia

* * *

There was silence. A hushed wind blew throughout the town as the blackened flag fell from the mast of the ship in timeless motion. However the strident low of whispers and secrets flew throughout the salty air and assaulted the minds of whomever outstretched their ears to listen. The paces of the populace slowed in the streets to take note or steal a glance of the rowdy new comers afoot within the town, simply hoping not to be pillaged, or plundered. Men hide away their children, wives, and sisters in fear but the wenches and harlots allowed their clothing to hang looser and every corner that could be turned was filled with shady business deals of the oldest profession.

Alfred watched them; poor, slim bodies lined before the docks to present themselves to men whom he followed down to the boards of rotting wood yet his heavy boots did not sway from their path like them, but his steps echoed still across the dock and to the brothel filled high with unknown men though it had only been noon. He added to the count by one.

"Lovely day Eliza." He greeted with a nod the Hungarian woman who turned to him and smiled. Though her expression worn from the early started day she was happy to gaze upon a familiar face bundled neatly in the perfect blue that matched his eyes vested and buttoned over a white blouse not yet ruined by a hard day's work at sea like the strangers scattered across the tables and chairs drinking, laughing, and happy to be upon the land. She beamed with joyous laughter as he walked across them and paid no mind to the looks or snorts he'd received. Brown boots clunked softly on the splintered peeling wood to match his movements like music.

"What may I do for you today Alfred?" She mused.

"How long have they been around?" He asked with scanning eyes that trailed over the dim lit room for a sign of familiarity that was not shrill giggles or quiet moans from the blackened corners of the faux bar that radiated from the throats of Eliza's girls.

"Those men appeared during Gilberts shift late into last night and have yet to leave. I cannot complain, however. Business has not picked up this much in a long time." The loud thump from a room up the stairs sounded in chorus with undistinguished curses and moans as she spoke.

"Which one are you referring?" He joked lightly, though hadn't much been in the mood for playful jest or banter upon his waking and still since. But Elizaveta was a friend whom he adored and felt the need to be polite to. She was older, but not much so and very lively still. Alfred liked the way her hair flowed and cascaded down her back like molasses and how her eyes shined like the stems of fresh cut roses. Though he hated that as well. Her eyes were green, his color of hatred and evil and looking at her sometimes felt as if he were looking at _him_. His childhood monster, his attacker, the rapist with those evil green eyes which glowed impossibly so in the darkness of his bedroom in the reflection of the moon. He hated Eliza for sharing that single quality with the evil man.

"Both." Her sugar cane voice cut into his thoughts and brought him back into a smile. "What do you say Alfred? You stop by all the time but have yet to give me business. Emily should be finishing by now. You know she has taken a fancy to you." She asked, lifting green eyes both teasing and hopeful at the tall man before her. Elizaveta nodded at the expected rejection she received and made nothing of the matter still as she turned back her eyes to the table to clean. "What is it that you need dear?"

"I took a step inside to know what you have heard." Leaning casually over the table he waited, and observed. The scent of alcohol and sex twisted in the air with the musk of hot bodies no longer at sea forced Alfred's stomach to churn and knot a familiar feeling as his minds eyes imagined the lusty look of pierced green eyes between hearty laughs and unexcused passing's of bodily functions. He wondered how Eliza could even stand it. His eyes scanned each man, each member of the crew, yet no familiar face or voice came into view. His narrowed and he glowered behind his lenses.

"What I've heard about what?"

"About those men." He gestured with a tilt of the head to the largest crowed of men drinking loudly in competition toward the others.

"You should not stick your nose into business that is not your own Alfred." She paused for a moment, sending another sly grin his way before extending her hand in expected payment for her reliant service to him. "The story." She began after the break between their exchange of money into words and spoke slowly, careful so none else would hear or see as she slid the silver coins between her fingers and into the patch sewn pocket of her green dress. "They are pirates coming from the round. They usually dock in Nassau but they needed to make a stop- more than likely because they had too many sick and wounded from a raid against one of one of the Indiamen." She explained. "This group might not be too smart. They seem to enjoy talking They have been here once before, around ten years ago they stayed for around three days. They have obtained a new captain since then-something about a mutiny abroad the ship."

"What happened?"

"They tossed the captain over board, and elected a new one just like that." She snapped. "And any of the old captains supporters went with him."

"Any idea how many?"

"No. It isn't something people speak about when they are with the girls." She explained.

Though Alfred nodded accordingly, he was torn apart in rage at the thought of Arthur having been tossed overboard. That man deserved the death-but at his hands alone. But he knew ten years was a long time though there was nothing but his own hopes which promised Arthur's life to him, he refused to believe that every moment spent planning this and spilling over with hate fueled rage was for not.

"What of a man named Arthur?" The woman rose a brow, suspicion growing ever much within her as Alfred asked a question so uncharacteristically specific but she knew it was not her job to question his logic nor reasoning. He came to her with a request and chance for new business by use of her girls to gain information from sailors and pirates alike.

She thought him a bounty hunter, or one out to consider the harsh life out on sea but never did know what he did with such information or why it had been needed because Alfred never left their town but rather stayed to forge tools after the passing of his father. She could not understand why one so fixed on the sea would pick up the dying business of his father and for a moment she considered that he may have been waiting on the return of someone so dear to him. She wanted to stop the thought from surfacing to the forefront of her mind and out of rosy pink lips so in its stead she told the truth.

"Arthur is the name of the captain. He has been with Amelia for sometime upstairs." Despite her careful words and averting eyes she could not contain her secret smile as she witnessed the light grin tug upon Alfred's lips and force a smile where none existed before.

"Thank you Eliza." He dug into his pocket and presented her with pieces of copper and gold. "That is all that will be needing. Your services will be required no more after today."

"Was that it then? The information you have been awaiting?"

"No questions." He held a patient finger in the air and smiled once more. "But I think I have a fixing for a glass of gin."

"Coming right up."

And Alfred waited, sipping slowly his drink and well past the final thump and scream from the room up the stairs till it had been replaced by the ever growing noise of feet descending steps.

First there were boots; heavy and black, near spotless of dirt and salt. His heavy steps sounded in Alfred's ears like the pound his drumming heart as he watched, attempting to remain discreet.

Next were trousers; darker than the boots but wrinkled expectedly. Alfred's nose turned up in disgust. He could not control himself and that was such a fact that Alfred knew well.

Then he could see his jacket-bright red over white and adorned with gold and greens. How could he not take notice of the bright color ironic in his eyes?

Last the messy golden locks that framed his unaged face appeared and Alfred was left to gape and stare in awe and bemusement at the man whose blood will be soon spilled upon his hands.

He hummed, a soft sound of dismissive fancy as he turned to watch the monster reach the final step and the room emptied slow in his mind. Every sound, person, and color faded dim grey and black as gold, blue, and green, took over his sight.

His eyes, a young and fearful blue of no more than ten which gazed up the thick shaft above prickled hairs and into eyes of green aged far more years than his than his own. His silky voice urged him on, moaning out his praises as his own former selves head bobbed between his legs in rapid succession. Alfred could hear his voice-the one which haunted his nights and days clear as the ocean blue.

He stood. Turning to face him in full to gain the attention he so desperately craved each and every night as he thought this moment over and wondered about its outcomes starting with this:

This thing of which never came because the faint glow of recognition did not spread across his monsters features as he turned to him, connecting eyes and glaring straight. He appeared not to take interest in Alfred- who's heart skipped a beat then doubled in pace in confused anger. Was this not supposed to be punishment? Was this not satisfactory vengeance? Was revenge truly revenge if the victim did not know of his crime?

In motion too slow to be possible Arthur's from drifted beside his own with a brush of the shoulder and for the first time his dream became real.

"Arthur." He called that name he dared not to speak for many years and would not utter for timeless more as he, and like a bullet, turned around to face him again. He watched as he stopped, the back of his monster no longer turned toward him as he turned sharply in his tracks with a defiant scowl and narrowed gaze.

"What is it you be wanting mate?" He spoke with absent eloquence that did not suit his face, nor Alfred's recollection but watched red clothed arms fold across his monsters chest in a familiar stance nonetheless. He had not been mistaken.

"Arthur." He could say again and many times over but the bitter taste like bile could not be erased as the name tore across his lips and throat.

"That be captain to you-you seem to know me name quite well. What is it you be wanting?" He asked again, asserting his voice to a level deeper than the last. "Who are you?"

"...Alfred F. Jones." He announced, but still no sign of even the faintest of memory of who he was or what he'd done. Alfred could feel the fires of rage burn hotter within him. His fingers curled to a fist. And with anger as clear as the sun took a step forward-closer to his monster who looked upon him disinterested and unfazed.

"That be a name I ain't familiar with. What do you want?" He asked once more as the brothel fell to the silent watchings of - a stranger, Alfred F. Jones, reaching for his gun against that of the captain, Arthur Kirkland, who drew quicker and with practiced precision pressed the cold metal barrel to the hairs of Alfred's head.

"If you be wishing to live, I'd lay ye weapon down." He demanded. "What type of fool ye be?" Though he received no response Arthur pressed harder still as Elizaveta watched in confused fear the same as that which froze her workers in place, and brought every eye unto the pair of blonds shooting dirty glares at one another. "I asked a question of you boy." Arthur asserted as Alfred opened his mouth to speak words unknowingly thought which made no sense to him until he hit a sudden idea.

"I wish to join your crew." He announced to Arthur and the world around.

"What?"

"I want to join your crew." He told again.

"You must be sick in the head. Ain't no room for a landlubber in me crew." He released pale skin from the gun though held it tight and up pointed to the ceiling. But before he could blink, the crash of manmade thunder boomed throughout the room before a thud, gasp, and dying sigh of a man whose name Arthur never bothered to learn sounded from the floor.

"I just opened a spot." He told as the scarlet puddle beneath emptied seat grew and the clicks and clanks of drawing swords and readied arms risen against Alfred sounded from its corners. Though the monster seemed amused- as Alfred thought he would. A monster who comes after children in the night would ,of course, enjoy the sight of the spilt blood of fellow seamen. He rose his hand and signaled a halt in the actions of his crew and for a brief moment Arthur thought. Had Alfred even flinch? What was his purpose? What did he want?

"What the hell!" Elizaveta screamed loudly. Her voice piercing the air like a steady knife as a dark haired man dressed in blue rushed from the room in back in panic and worried expression. He spoke something in deep throated German that Alfred did not understand nor care to know. The girls ran, many half dressed and most at the cost of abandoning her post with liquid dripped legs as the prize. The prostitutes screamed, calleing for help and mercy, and sprinted up stairs and out the door. "What the fuck just happened?" Eliza's question remained unanswered as Arthur stared at Alfred in amusement, a strange gaze between joy and arousal swirling around his vision.

"It be taking more than one good shoot to impress me lad. It take more than that to be ready to sail under captain Kirkland. Ye understand?" He asked him. "Y'gotta learn to be submissive."

"What-"

"Ye can't be demanding a spot on the crew. It's gotta be earned through work and services. Ye can't be back sassing yer captain." He cut his speech. "Sailing ain't what story spinners say all it is. Ye aint got what it takes to be in my crew."

"Says who?"

"Me." Was his simple response.

"You're wrong."

"Am I? Ye can't even listen to yer captain. Tell me lad, how is it that I'm mistaken?" He mused. What was Alfred going to say? What would he do? How much of his pride would he be willing to give Arthur to let him join? Alfred, Arthur had to say, had a pretty face. But that wasn't the makings of a sailor and he learned from his years as a privateer and pirate that pretty faces don't always keep. Alfred would be another mouth to feed, another person to split away the profits with despite the fact he'd shot his best marksmen. He doubted Alfred could prove to be a suitable replacement.

"I'm listening now." Alfred crossed his arms, stared at him, and Arthur liked the flames dead set and dancing in his eyes.

"Then tell me lad." His voice hushed. "What are ye willing to do to prove yourself a spot in me crew?"

"I can do anything." His voice, Arthur thought, it was the voice like a wench asking for extra coins in exchange for a night-sweet, low, and tempting to him. He grinned.

"Anything is a large open space lad. You talk big with that mouth of yours."

"It can do a lot more than just talk." Alfred smirked. If it's one thing he knew he could do, it was appeal to Arthur's sinful desires. He watched Arthur's grin grow deeper before tossing his head back for a hearty laugh which hit against his ears like stone to a glass and deepened the pit within his stomach with a strange, negative feeling. Alfred could hear a mix of frantic German and Hungarian in the background as Arthur spoke to him once more.

"What exactly do you do Jones?"

"I am a blacksmith."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Fine. If you know your way around a sword than I can strike you a deal; forge me a sword. If it's to me liking you can join me crew. You any good with that gun?" Alfred, however, was unable to respond as another shot was fired throughout the room accompanied next by Elizaveta's yells.

"Get out!" She yelled. "Right this moment!" She pointed her musket toward the center two and Arthur smirked.

"Don't get ye pantaloons twisted lass. We're on our way." He told as he slid his gold plated weapon back into its holstered home and turned to Alfred once again. "Where is your workshop?" He asked.

"By the end of the road. Eastward." He explained to him.

"I'll follow ye." Arthur asserted as he himself began to leave with Alfred behind his heels close behind. He could smell the woman upon him but even more so the scent of the sea.

He would not waste his good fortune.

Away from his crewmen and alone, Arthur was sure to recall the house he had been sheltered in all those years ago and alone, Alfred would kill him. Blood will splatter the walls and drip upon his fingers and nails. It would dirty his windows and all will know of what he did but none more so than Arthur who will suffer from the act first hand.

Alone he would have his revenge.

* * *

From Wikipedia:

The Round:The **Pirate Round** was a sailing route followed by certain English pirates, mainly during the late 17th century. The course led from the western Atlantic, around the southern tip of Africa, stopping at Madagascar, then on to targets such as the coast of Yemen and India. The Pirate Round was briefly used again during the early 1720s. Pirates who followed the route are sometimes referred to as Roundsmen. The Pirate Round was largely co-extensive with the routes of the East India Company ships, of Britain and other nations.

Indiamen: Also called **East Indiaman** was a general name for any ship operating under charter or license to any of the East India Companies of the major European trading powers of the 17th through the 19th centuries

Privateer: A **privateer** is a private person or ship authorized by a government by letters of marque to attack foreign shipping during wartime.


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